Two bare feet in beach sand showing a small black fine line anchor tattoo on one ankle and a ship's wheel tattoo on the other.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Anchor and ship's wheel ankle tattoos on sand

Fine line · Ankle · Black and grey · Photo

Two bare feet rest in pale beach sand, with a small anchor tattoo on the outer side of one ankle and a ship's wheel tattoo on the other. Both designs are drawn in thin, dark black linework with no shading, and the ink looks slightly soft as it sits on the skin. The composition is close and bright, with teal toenail polish and a woven bracelet on one ankle adding small areas of colour.

Fine line Ankle Anchor Ship's wheel Feet Sand Beach Bracelet

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Ada, The wind has swung north-east again and the lamp smoked all night, so I have spent the morning trimming wicks and thinking about the Margaret Lowe and the wheel Tom Pilling was holding when she came round the Scar. You will remember the Pilling boys. Tom was the quiet one, the one who never let go of a rope once he had been told to hold it.

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The lifeboat men brought his cap up the tower on Tuesday. Not him, only the cap, wet through and stiff with salt, with a length of frayed line still knotted to the brim. I hung it on the hook by the door where the oilskins go, and there it has stayed. I cannot bring myself to touch it, and I cannot bring myself to put it in the drawer with the logbooks.

Yesterday a boy from the village climbed the iron stairs with a parcel from the chandler at Shields. Inside was a brass anchor for the gallery rail, heavy as a sin. He asked whether I wanted it fixed and I said to leave it on the step. Then I fetched a tin of black paint and a fine brush and, on the flat stone beside the landing, I drew a small anchor and a ship's wheel, the way Tom used to draw them on the back of his slate when he was supposed to be doing sums.

When the tide turns tonight, the boats coming in will see those two marks in the lamplight and know where the landing is. Come home when the wind allows. The kettle is always on up here, and the cap is still on its hook. Your loving sister, Margaret